


Seduced By A Human

by VincentMeoblinn



Series: Satyr Fics [6]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, Dubious Consent, Fawnlock, Feral Behavior, Lactation Kink, Light BDSM, M/M, Male Lactation, Multi, Oral, Orgasm Denial, Rimming, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A plane crash leaves Anderson, Sherlock, Lestrade, and John stranded on a small island with nothing but birds, birds, and more birds. Oh, and plants, but most of them inedible to humans. So unless they can manage to capture the tiny finches en-masse (they can’t) the humans have to find an alternative form of sustenance. Faunlock to the racy rescue as Sherlock announces that Bucks can produce milk when competing for a male mate, but first the three men have to convince Sherlock that he’s not won them over completely…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seduced By A Human

 

 

 

 

Humans couldn’t understand Satyrese, and his mind was too far gone to manage any language other than the one he was born knowing.

It was cruel. A part of his mind remembered he had once been brilliant, but the rest was dulled with a lust so profound that no sense could break through. He called for them when they left, but they never returned within the same day. Sherlock had no idea what he’d done to deserve their abandonment. Was he not fertile? Was he not developed and showing them _daily_ that he could feed their young? Was he not eager to please? Was his tail not lifted and his body dripping with need?

Yet again and again they tortured him. They would come to him, hard and eager, and press against him greedily. Their mouths would wrap around his sensitive nipples and tease the sore buds. Then they’d finally latch on, their mouths wrapping fully around the areolas as they suckled while he massaged. Perhaps if he made just a few mouthfuls more they’d realize that he was fit to carry their seed. He’d take any of them! All of them! If they’d just _give him what he needed_! Lust wasn’t meant to last for so many turns of the earth. He was mindless with desire.

The familiar hands were the worst. The hands that had once given him such exquisite pleasure, that had gifted him with two beautiful Kidds, now wrung cries of agony from him. They would start out giving, sliding in and out of his wet body as he pushed back, while he flickered his tail invitingly. The free hand would stroke his sides, lingering on favorite markings and occasionally laving them with a hot tongue. Strong teeth would nip his ear, shoulder, back, arse, tonguing him where he most needed to be filled, petting and tugging on his damp tail, and then… pull away. His once-mate would help two others pin him down and steal his milk, suckling it from his body while giving him only a moment’s torturous pleasure before leaving him unfulfilled and sobbing. He begged for their return. He begged his mate to take him back. His cries fell on deaf ears.

Humans couldn’t understand Satyrese.

XXX

“Remember,” John points out, “His ass is mine. And don’t come. He smells that you’ve gotten off then we won’t be getting any more from him for weeks. Maybe months.”

Anderson and Lestrade nodded anxiously. Once they would have scoffed at the idea of being here for months, but that was months ago. Their diet of fruit, the occasional tuber, and a few captured birds a day had been making them both unhealthy and miserable. Their attempts to net the birds had succeeded for the most part, but they were running out of birds and the damn things yielded a total of _one_ bite of meat each. Then Sherlock had explained something about Satyr physiology to them.

“We’re meant to be breeding machines, and a few of our luring in techniques hasn’t shut off despite our evolution into intelligent creatures,” Sherlock had stated calmly, “You already know Bucks are capable of getting pregnant and feeding their young via lactation. What you might not know is that we’re capable of lactating _outside_ of a post-partum situation.”

“If you’ve got milk give it up,” Anderson had snarled angrily.

“Shut it!” John snapped, pushing him back when he started advancing on Sherlock, “He hasn’t! I’m his lover, remember? I’d _know_.”

“I _could_ though,” Sherlock pointed out unhelpfully, “But it will likely take time and require John and I to be a bit… flexible.”

“Flexible how?” John asked, his tone decidedly rigid.

“In order to trick my body into believing it has to prove itself the worthy mate I need to be surrounded by males who are aroused but never ejaculate,” Sherlock explained, “Penetration _might_ help, but again even I couldn’t be allowed release.”

There was a moment of intense silence and then Lestrade shook his head, “Nope. No. Definitely the plot to a gay porno.”

“John!” Sherlock whined.

“He’s serious. I know his joking face and it _never_ involves sex,” John sighed, “If… _if_ … I were to agree to this, how much milk would we be talking about?”

“If my body is convinced that you lot are trying to decide between choosing me or each other it would start out with just a trickle, but once you started nursing off of me-“

“I’d be sick if I weren’t so damn hungry,” Anderson griped.

“-I’d produce quite a bit. It would continue as long as I had sustenance, which I do in abundance, and as long as you lot continued to be aroused around me, fondle me, and then leave off after drinking my milk.”

After a few days of debate they agreed on an attempt to get Sherlock to lactate. They started by all facing away from him in a circle and tossing off. When they got close they stopped and Sherlock sniffed at their groins. He was uninterested in the proceedings though, deeming them too medical. They tried that for a few more days with no success before Sherlock insisted they had to at least touch him a bit. John took that on, but Sherlock pointed out that he would continue to view John as his mate if that kept up. Finally John relented and the men dove in to lick, kiss, and fondle Sherlock until he was a moaning mess. They focused especially on his nipples, suckling at them until they were sore. It took a few more days before Anderson gleefully announced that he’d tasted something.

“Was it blood?” Sherlock asked, flushed with arousal and pain.

“No! It was sweet!” He declared, and dove in for more.

Sherlock snarled and pushed him away, frustrated by the pain, but the frantic men held him down and suckled greedily. John got a mouthful from his second teat but that was all there was to offer. Groaning in frustration, the men gave up and Sherlock retreated with an angry snarl.

“You didn’t have to pin me down like that!” He snapped at them.

“Sherlock, we’re famished,” John replied, “How much longer until you can give us more than a tease?”

“ _You’re_ being teased?” Sherlock asked angrily, palming his erection, “It will take as long as it takes!”

With that angry announcement he turned and stormed off. They found him the next day in his meadow, and this time he was gagging for it in a different way. Sherlock had gone on Rut. Thankfully the humans were so hungry that the first thought on their mind was to use this to their advantage in anything but a sexual way. They set about teasing Sherlock as they had for days. They stroked their hands up his sensitive sides, lapped at his leaking cock, teased his entrance (only John) with a finger, and pressed hungry kisses to his mouth. Sherlock keened and whined and presented himself for mounting only to be pushed away. The men were aching for him, the scent of Satyr Rut filling their noses, but they knew they had to hold off. When it became too much for Anderson he bolted away from the group, wanking off downwind from Sherlock so he wouldn’t catch the scent. He washed up and returned in time for Lestrade to take off for the same reason. While it had already made him hard again, the sight of John greedily gulping milk down was enough to distract him from sex. By the time Lestrade returned they’d both had quite a bit and John took off to relieve himself while the DI had a sip.

A normal Rut lasted three days, but with their constant teasing each day Sherlock entered a strange almost trance-like state after his Rut had ended. His eyes turned feral. He keened and presented to them regularly, the few words he uttered to them still were often heavily accented. He stopped behaving like an intelligent being and became a wild creature, bent on being mated with beyond all other thought. They had to pen him in after Lestrade woke up with Sherlock riding him greedily and had nearly come before they’d pried him off.

Every day they braced themselves and headed for Sherlock’s pen where he could be found grazing, eating from the basket they provided him with, and splashing about in his stream. He still kept himself clean for them, and he walked on two legs when he wasn’t grazing, but otherwise he was a savage thing. He’d as soon pin them down and have his way, riding their cocks until they burst inside of him, as look at them. Similarly entering the paddock had become a Pavlovian experience for the men. The three now became erect at the sight of the gate and had a skilled plan in place. They had fashioned cock rings out of wood so that they could hold themselves off. In this way they could drink to their fill and then leave, taking care of their aching need once well away from the deprived satyr.

Their only solace for torturing the poor Buck was that it yielded enough milk for each of them to fill their bellies twice a day. Sherlock seemed to know what they wanted and started out each moment by kneeling on the ground, legs lewdly spread, and massaging his swollen pecks. Satyr males never presented much in the way of fatty tissue, but his ducts were full to the brim. He’d be leaking from both teats and cock by the time they reached his side. He’d not fight them at first. He’d moan softly and arch his back as two knelt in front while John knelt behind him. Then they’d start suckling and he’d wriggle and moan and make soft pleading sounds as his desire amped up again and again. Behind him John fingered the Faun’s leaking arse, stroking his prostate to keep him sweet. However, once John shifted to the front it was go time. Sherlock would turn savage once he realized John wasn’t going to mount him. Lestrade and Anderson would pin him down while John suckled his milk down, a bit from each teat until it was empty, and finish him off by giving him head through one orgasm to give the poor thing some relief. While Sherlock was basking in pleasure they’d leave him limp and whimpering for more to stagger off and take care of their own needs. None of them felt any real relief, though. Not with Sherlock’s frantic calls following them up the path. Not when the Satyr would greet them the next day with a call of longing. Not when his eyes were wet with tears as they guzzled down his milk and gave him nothing in return.

XXX

It was almost horrible when help finally came. A fisherman spotted their signal fire and came close to investigate. When he heard that they’d been trapped there for five months he took Anderson to get help, his boat only big enough for two since he refused to ditch his haul, while Lestrade and John stayed behind to deal with their ‘problem’.

“How do we bring him out of this?” Lestrade asked anxiously, “He’s been like this for over a month!”

“We’ll give him what he needs. Or I will.”

“You think sex will solve this? He’s practically an animal now!”

“I know!” John shouted angrily, “He’s my damn _mate_ Greg! Don’t you think this is killing me?”

“Okay. Alright. So what do I do? Anything? Nothing?”

“Keep him from killing me,” John replied dryly.

Lestrade nodded, but they were already at the gate and he was aching. His body knew that this was where desire lived. Sherlock had become a kind of sex god that they worshiped over and again, sacrificing his mind in order to gain the nutrition that he rained down on them in sweet tasting drops of seductive milk. The Buck was whimpering with need, shifting anxiously. Greg glanced up and realized they were an hour overdue. His nipples were leaking from the pressure of being so full.

“Damn, we’ll have to relieve him,” John muttered, “His tits are full up. Let’s see if he’ll let us near him.”

They needn’t have worried, Sherlock practically rushed them, pulling them down into the grass to press their faces to his swollen chest. Each latched on and the Satyr cried out in a mixture of pain and relief. John swallowed down the milk as it sprayed into his mouth, the silken texture and saccharine taste exploding on his tongue. Beside him Lestrade was frantically frotting against Sherlock’s leg while he suckled at his teat. John wrapped his fingers around Sherlock’s cock… to find a hand already there. John pulled back, a spurt of milk hitting the side of his head, and confronted Lestrade angrily.

“What are you doing? He’s _mine_!”

Lestrade whimpered and removed his hand, reaching down to stroke himself. His face looked pained and John took pity; Sherlock’s pheromones were something to be tortured with. The Buck couldn’t consent but _John_ could. Sherlock had allowed Lestrade and Anderson to use his mouth back when all of this began, back when he’d still had his mind at his disposal, surely that was still okay?

“Look, I’m going to fuck his arse. That’s _mine_ , and only mine. You can fuck his mouth if you _swear_ not to use it against him later.”

“Fuck yes. I mean no. I mean, _anything John!_ ” Lestrade’s voice was choked with need.

There was an immediate rearrangement of limbs. Sherlock was _not_ letting John go now that he had him where he wanted him so John ended up between the Faun’s legs, moaning as he fingered his sopping wet arse. Sherlock never produced lubricant outside of Rut, so this was clearly a symptom of the strange state he was now in. He still required a bit of stretching, but once that was done John only had to indicate that he wanted Sherlock to roll over by tugging at his hips and the savage creature was instantly on his knees and presenting his gaping hole to be plundered. Lestrade swore and John moaned.

The doctor pressed himself into the heat he’d been longing for and somehow managed not to instantly come. Sherlock wasn’t so lucky. The second he had a cock inside of him he came explosively, his red cock swollen and pulsing as he emptied himself. Lestrade’s hand shot out and John moaned as he saw the man stroking himself with a fistful of Sherlock’s come. He added some milk to that, reaching out to stroke Sherlock’s tits as if milking a cow. He angled his hips to spray down on his groin and was soon drenched across his waist with Sherlock’s fluids. He shifted back up, winked at John while he gaped at him and frantically fucked his lover, and then moved to kneel at Sherlock’s head.

Lestrade grasped the Buck’s small horns and groaned as he watched himself slid between those full lips. John knew that pleasure well. Sherlock’s lips and tongue were devilishly talented, but John rather thought Lestrade wasn’t getting the full effect with Sherlock insensed with pleasure. The Faun was chasing his second release, thrusting back on John’s cock, so Lestrade simply rolled with the motions and let each jolt forward bury his cock in Sherlock’s mouth. The Buck only choked once, then he began to suck on the DI’s cock with a vengeance. The sight of Sherlock being face fucked by a friend who John was admitting was rather attractive threw John well over the edge. He came with a possessive growl, scratching his nails down Sherlock’s back as he marked his territory even while enjoying the sight of Lestrade crying out in pleasure as he emptied himself into Sherlock’s mouth. The silver haired man toppled backwards into the grass panting in relief and laughing a bit at having _finally_ gotten what he’d been craving for months.

John, however, found himself suddenly turned on by an angry Satyr. Sherlock snarled as he threw John down and sank back onto his cock riding him frantically. Only the scent of his still lingering Rut let John maintain his ardour, and he was soon thrusting up while gripping those muscular, hairy legs. Sherlock looked down at him with keen eyes, finally devoid of the madness that had glazed them over for months on end.

“I’m going to ride you until you’re limp. Then I’m going to do the same to Greg. Then I’m going to turn _all three of you_ over and spank you!”

John moaned, his arse clenching at the thought, but the only thing he could manage to reply was, “Anderson isn’t here.”

“Why do you think he just gets a spanking?” Sherlock snarled.

“Can I watch?” Greg wanted to know.

“Shut up!” Sherlock shouted, pointing at Lestrade accusingly, “You’re cock is mine in approximately twelve minutes!”

“Twelve min…?! No chance in hell,” John growled, and rolled them over to pound into Sherlock angrily while reciting the bones in his hands to distract himself from coming within that time limit.

Lestrade was no help at all. He scrambled over and began snogging the daylights out of Sherlock, licking into his mouth and then working up his sharp cheekbones, nuzzling through his hair, and then stroking his tongue along the sensitive, silky flesh inside of Sherlock’s ears.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Lestrade whispered, “We didn’t want to use you like that. You beautiful, brilliant man.”

John moaned, as Sherlock’s eyes filled with tears, but rather than weep he dragged Lestrade down for another hungry kiss.

“I’ll make you pay for it,” Sherlock growled, “I want you inside me, fucking me fast and hard, the second John is through. You _will_ pleasure me! Do you understand?”

Lestrade whimpered and his eyes slid down to John, questioning. John was riveted by the sight. _Just this once. We’ve earned a bit of mindless pleasure. Don’t think. Just give Sherlock what he needs. He gave so much to you. Give to him._

“Yeah,” John panted, and then barely held off his orgasm as the mental image of Sherlock riding Lestrade finally flitted through his mind. A squeeze from Sherlock along with those green-grey-blue eyes smirking up at him was all he needed to topple over the edge. He took Sherlock with him, stroking the Satyr’s cock fast and hard while he groaned out his relief.

John slid free and nodded to Lestrade who scrambled over to thrust into Sherlock’s leaking hole.

“Oh gods, that’s _filthy_!” He announced, then shouted in surprise as Sherlock dragged John across his torso and raised a hand.

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at Lestrade, “What are you waiting for? Get on with it!”

Lestrade began to thrust into him, fast and hard, letting himself pull out nearly all the way since Sherlock was perfectly stretched for such action. To add naughty to delicious, Sherlock brought his hand down on John’s bottom with each inward thrust. John was soon howling, a grin on his face as he reveled in what was apparently an appealing act for him.

“Fuck! Ow! Yes! That! Fuck! Harder!” John shouted at each slap, “Ah! Switch! Off! No! Fuck! Ah!”

“Hurts, does it?” Sherlock asked, “Want me to switch to a different spot?”

“Yes! No! Fuck! OhgodsI’mgettinghardagainfuckohfuckohfuck!”

Lestrade had lost all sense of control, his hips snapping forward fast and hard while Watson’s arse turned frightening shades of red. Sherlock’s cock bounced against John’s hip, hard and larger than Lestrade thought he’d ever be able to take in. John had managed. John had taken that cock over and again inside the very arse that Sherlock was currently molesting, his hands stroking and rubbing before resuming a fast staccato of smacks. Sherlock reached up and squeezed a bit of milk into his fingers and began to finger John’s hole with it, drawing a gasp of shocked arousal from Lestrade. John whimpered and arched back and accepted the intrusion of a milk coated digit with more ease than Lestrade assumed he could as a power top. Sherlock pulled them free and than landed a three finger tap onto John’s hole that left him howling and bucking against Sherlock’s chest.

“ _Fuck! Make him come! Now! NOW!”_

Lestrade reached down and grasped Sherlock’s cock, pumping it until the man moaned and came, his body going slack with pleasure. Lestrade stilled and lost all ability to do anything except pulse seed deep into Sherlock’s greedy, clenching, sucking hole. His vision whited out, his eyes rolled into his head and graced him with a lovely fireworks display, and the world dissolved into fuzzy hissing as his very ears ceased to function. When he was finally able to draw breath and look around John scrambled up and stroked his cock a few times before scrambling up onto Sherlock’s lap.

“No way I’m coming again, _but you are_ ,” John swore as he glared down at Sherlock’s smiling form, “Greg. Pass me some spunk.”

“Never thought I’d hear that,” Lestrade growled, but slid free and thrust three fingers into Sherlock to ease it out.

Without being asked he reached up and began to prepare John, stretching him with a combination of both their semen. John was gathering up some of the mess from Sherlock’s abdomen and he slid that hand back beneath his bollocks to add to the mess around his arse. Lestrade helped him smooth it around, spread someone Sherlock’s cock, and then moaned at the sight of John lowering himself on that huge shaft.

Sherlock moaned and thrust up lazily while John took a slow pace, sighing at the fullness and the sting on his arse while he rode his lover. _Finally. Finally. Mine. My love. My husband. My consulting detective._

He was joined by a hot bit of breath at his collar and opened his eyes to see Greg straddling Sherlock’s chest with wide yes. He looked almost frightened so John leaned forward and captured his lips in a heated kiss. _Why didn’t we do this earlier? All that time spent wanking alone while missing Sherlock and I could have been doing this. Ahh, but I didn’t have his permission and now I do_.

No sooner had he thought that than Sherlock’s hand came down on Lestrade’s arse and the man grunted into John’s mouth. John wrapped a hand around his head and held him steady while he continued to ride Sherlock and Sherlock continued to slap his bottom. Lestrade moaned and wriggled, trying to get away from the steadily growing sting. His bottom felt as if it were on fire and his aching muscles were protesting the sudden activity change from foraging to fucking. He was tugged backwards by Sherlock and then found himself sitting on the Satyr’s chin. He let out a started cry into John’s mouth as a hot, wet _something_ slid over his hole. He thanked his lucky stars for the dip he’d had in the ocean while chasing the fisherman’s boat and then ground down and lost himself in sensation.

The pain and pleasure combo made him delirious with longing, but he was past the point of culmination. That didn’t mean he couldn’t _enjoy_ it, though. Sherlock’s finger was the first he’d ever had inside of him and the knowledge that his life-sustaining milk was included was beyond erotic. He whimpered and wriggled and endured six more slaps, three to each cheek, before Sherlock stiffened beneath him. The Satyr cried out against his arse and fell still. John took a moment to catch his breath, panting while grinning broadly at Lestrade, and then slid off and collapsed on the ground. Lestrade chose the other side and landed face down with his arse still in Sherlock’s reach. That earned him another two slaps before he scrambled around.

Sherlock lay still and sated, his cock limp on his lap and his stretched hole leaking onto the grass. On each shoulder rested the head of a sated Human. Sherlock grinned to himself as he ran his fingers through their hair and stroked their sweat-cooled arms.

_I could get used to having two lovers. It will confuse the children at first, but Satyr culture has never forbidden such a union. They’ll adjust. They’ll be so happy that Mummy and Daddy have come home at last that they’ll be unconcerned about the addition of a third parent; and then the subsequent addition of more Kidds will soothe their ruffled coats. Our family will be large enough to keep even Mrs. Hudson content in her mollycoddling._

Sherlock grinned as he made plans and was still grinning after he had sat himself down in the rescue boat. He ignored the Humans asking him questions and put up with their medical exam while John insisted that Sherlock was fine and that _he_ was a doctor and they were _all_ fine. Anderson had been a prat and chosen not to return to the island for their rescue, but that only postponed his spanking until a later date. Sherlock would catch him up eventually. And if it happened in front of the Yard… well, it was his own fault.


End file.
